Temples of Steel
by Daeres
Summary: The Crusade for the Draedonian Cluster has begun, with the Imperium landing heavy forces on a planet overwhelmed by rebellion. Those who have landed will quickly discover the very human cost of incompetent leadership.
1. Chapter 1

The 2nd Draedonian Cluster Crusade began in the latter half of M.41. Initially formed in response to sightings of a tendril of a Tyranid Hive Fleet, it soon became an excuse to consolidate Imperial control in the Cluster; the Draedonian Cluster had become notorious for the high incidence of insurrection against Imperial authority, and several planetary civil wars were ongoing at the time of the Crusade's outset. The Crusade was divided into three main attacking bodies; Crusader Group A, Crusader Group B, and Crusader Group C. Whilst Crusader Groups A and B had the primary objective of engaging and destroying the Tyranid menace, Group C was given a different objective altogether; 'Restoration'. The Crusade would take these 'Restorers' across dozens of worlds, and would see them face dangers ranging from traitors, incompetent officials, to the utterly alien forces of the Great Devourer.

At the outset of the Crusade, Group C consisted of the following forces;

Adeptus Astartes

Elder Servants Chapter, 5th+6th Companies

Ebony Dragons Chapter, 7th+10th Companies

Imperial Guard

3rd, 7th, 8th Haedria Mechanised Regiments

1st Haedria Armoured Regiment

54th Zornossos Infantry Regiment

24th, 27th, 30th, 31st, 32nd Bostran Infantry Regiments

20th Kesraa Vanguards

64th, 67th Kesraa Infantry Regiments

10th, 12th Uktab Armoured Regiments

4th Uktab Artillery Regiment

1st Company, 1st Battalion, 2nd Anaan Airbourne Regiment

1st Company, 2nd Battalion, 4th Gernard Air Cavalry Regiment

10th Iridan LOD Regiment (Low Orbit Drop)

Kelios was not pleased. His regiment had been forced to land some distance from their objective due to the enemy's anti-air defences, and had been force marched for several miles across crop fields, along with the other two regiments taking part in the assault. As a Colonel, he especially didn't like being isolated from information, but at the moment heavy ionisation in the upper atmosphere was disrupting vox-communications, and he had no idea how well the planetary invasion was unfolding at all. However, as this assault group's commander, he had decided to press on with their objective regardless. The objective in question, the enemy held city designated UBO-191, was rapidly nearing; Kelios calculated that in another ten minutes or so, they would reach the outlying suburbs, and in another half hour the central spires of the city. He considered it very fortunate indeed that the enemy had no artillery; the three regiments had been marching across very exposed countryside. Regardless, he remained unhappy about the entire situation.

Now that their objective was in close proximity, it was time to arrange deployment. Kelios took one last look through his scope, and then began issuing his commands.

"Specialist Theano, lux-signal the other two Colonels to meet at my command post at their earliest possible convenience."

"Yes sir!" The man was young, and overly enthusiastic, but a lack of communication specialists had resulted in soldiers like him rapidly finding themselves assigned to Regimental HQ. Kelios doubted that the Specialist had even started shaving yet.

Kelios turned to the bulky, stoic soldier next to him.

"Colour Sergeant, you will order the men to halt and await further orders." Without hesitation, the Sergeant turned round and bellowed the order to the vast column of men behind him. The company commanders and sergeants then disseminated the order throughout the regiment, like the dawn chorus of some vast rainforest.

Kelios then addressed his entire Regimental HQ team.

"Gentlemen, we will establish the command post here. I want camo-nets, a full vox-array set up for when these ion storms clear up, a triage centre, supply depots, commandeer all Chimaeras in the regiment, and I want a designated LZ for potential evac and supply runs." All of a sudden, the immediate area around him was filled with frenetic activity. Within moments, tends were erected, shading large areas, and cameoline-woven sheets were being cast over them. Electronic experts were arranging displays and equipment at a dizzying speed.

"You won't be popular with the Armoured Fist platoons for stealing their toys, Alda."

Kelios turned to see the familiar face of 1st Battalion Lieutenant-Colonel Hadonae with a wry smirk on his face.

"You know I could easily have you shot for cheek like that, Mathon, were you not the regiment's best supply of drink," Kelios shot back with a faux serious expression.

"Ah well, until I run out of bottles it seems like I'm safe then," replied Hadonae.

Kelios found himself relaxing, as he always seemed to in the man's company.

"The reason i'm taking the Chimaeras is that I need some way of being able to resupply frontline units. We were supposed to be getting logistical drops from the Navy but with the ion storms that won't be possible for the time being. How many Chimaeras does the regiment have in total... twenty?"

"Twenty-seven sir," corrected a Specialist setting up a data feed. Behind the Specialist, company after company of Zornossans were rearranging to allow the first of the Chimaeras to reach the command post.

"Okay, twenty-seven. We have five Armoured Fist Platoons, a total of five Chimaeras per squad, and two in reserve. I want at least ten of those Chimaeras for resupply and medevac, so that leaves enough for three Platoons to remain mechanised. All of the mechanised units are in 2nd Battalion, so get Lieutenant-Colonel Degeos over here unless the vox suddenly kicks back into life."

As though the God Emperor had been listening, suddenly all of the nearby vox-casters came online, to a smattering of cheers from the HQ. Finally, thought Kelios with secret relief.

"Specialist Theano, how far has the vox-network been restored?" Kelios asked with immediate suspicion.

"Not 100% sir! I've got clear feeds from the other two regiments and our own, but I can't get hold of anyone else in the Crusader Group, or in the Navy. Sorry sir." The young Specialist looked downcast.

"No need to apologise Specialist, you just needed to pay more attention in Weather Control class at barracks." Kelios allowed a smile to appear on his face.

"Yes sir!" replied Theanos, laughing nervously. The distant rumbling of Chimaera engines provided a gentle background noise to the otherwise silent environment.

"The other colonels and their command staff have arrived sir," said the Colour Sergeant in his usual stoic tone.

"Well, since the vox is back online I feel a little impolite for making them walk, but let's get on with it," said Kelios, setting his mind firmly on the situation.

Kelios' Command staff had arranged one tent into a war-room of sorts, complete with a modular table at which to sit, along with a holo-projection of UBO-191. As he entered, he encountered the HQ Commissar, Gerwin, who respectfully nodded at Kelios. He had no obligation to make Gerwin a part of the decision-making process, but did so anyway as a courtesy, and it had become part of the expected routine for the Commissar to take part. He approached his two opposite numbers, and saluted crisply.

"Colonel Alda Kelios of the 54th Kornossos Infantry at your service."

The two men saluted back.

"Colonel Bastian Ko of the 31st Bostran Infantry." The man had a cybernetic eye, and looked far older than Kelios. His long khaki overcoat was made of luxuriant material, but was well worn, and he was clearly no parade soldier.

"Commander Des Aerlan of the 64th Kesraa Infantry." Kelios noticed that the uniform seemed almost fresh out the factory, and realised that this man's regiment was almost certainly green to the bones. This did not bode well.

"Please take a seat gentleman," said Kelios in a courteous fashion. The two men gratefully sat down, along with Kelios and the Commissar. The edge of the tent was occupied by members of the command staff of all three regiments, ready to provide facts or figures to the Joint Command. Kelios found the intent stares of the 64th's Command staff troubling, but put it out of his mind to focus on the task at hand.

"The situation is this. For the time being, support from the Navy is impossible, along with any of the other forces who landed this morning."

"I take it that the vox-network is still not fully operational," said Colonel Ko.

"You are correct sir. This means no aerial support, no artillery support, and only what armoured support we can find. My regiment only has access to twenty-seven Chimaera transports. What is the situation in your regiments?"

"I'm afraid our support Chimaeras were not assigned to us in time for this operation, Colonel Kelios," replied Commander Aerlan, "and we were unable to get any assigned from other units to make up for the shortfall."

All four men shared an expression that said a great deal about what each one thought of incompetent commanders.

"I only have a few Chimaeras, Colonel, but we also have three squadrons of Sentinels." Said Ko, looking a little pleased with himself.

"Excellent. To summarise this in a nutshell, we're looking at intense urban combat, especially once we get into the city's inner districts, around here," he said, pointing at an area of the city map, "So my operational plan is simply that we concentrate the three regiments into a single front, and push up through the North East, East, and South East respectively, with my regiment at the centre. Are there any objections?"

The silence suggested that there weren't.

"I would like regular updates as to your regiments' disposition and situation when possible. Should the vox go down again, we might have to resort to a single command post, but i'm hoping that won't be necessary."

Kelios stood up, and the other three men stood with him.

"Time, anybody?" asked Kelios.

"0630 hours local time Colonel," replied Gerwin.

"Very well. At 0715 hours local, we advance gentlemen. Good hunting," and with that Kelios saluted.

Aerlan and Kos both saluted back, and with their command staff began the walk back to their own regiments. Kelios was about to walk out of the room, but then remembered something.

"Specialist Theanos, would you please contact Lieutenant-Colonel Degeos of the 2nd Battalion. Tell him to pick three of his Armoured Fist platoons, prepare them for extended urban operations and get them to my command post for 0645 hours. Tell him, pick only his best."


	2. Chapter 2

0740 Local Time, Outskirts of UBO-191

"I'm going to go through the objectives once again, in case any of you were too thick to understand them the first time round," said Sergeant Deanta, her speech being interrupted for a second as the Chimaera shook a little, "We and two of the other Armoured Fist platoons from the 2nd are the advance guard for the whole of the 54th. Each platoon has been given a specific objective deep behind enemy lines. Our Platoon is going to capture a likely fuel dump, we either take it whole or blow it to pieces. After that we set up defences and wait for the ground pounders to catch us up. Any questions?"

The Chimaera was suddenly filled with a loud silence.

"Good, now get on the lasguns, we're going to be passing through a lot of enemy territory to get where we're going."

She took up her position on one of the six lasguns mounted on the Chimaera, designed to give guardsmen some ability to defend the passenger compartment. The rest of the squad quickly sorted out who was going to take the other five. It was barely ten seconds until scattered las fire began to hit against the hull. The inside of the transport quickly began to heat up as the turret's multilaser began to disgorge heavy las fire at whatever enemies the gunner was seeing.

Deanta carefully scanned the buildings on the side of the street she was facing, looking for any signs of movement. Las rounds and the occasional autogun shell kept impacting against the hull, but she didn't let any of them distract her from the task at hand. Suddenly, a figure with a lasgun emerged from a doorway. He stood there barely a second before Deanta shot him in the chest, and as the transport kept moving she just managed to see that he'd folded up onto the street.

He wasn't the last either. Figures with weapons seemed to be in almost every building on her side, and she cursed herself for every one she missed, and she missed many more than she felt comfortable with. The other five manning the hull guns were just as occupied as she was, and the Multilaser was firing nonstop.

"Just our luck to be the lead in the convoy Sergeant!" shouted the driver, barely making himself heard over the roar of the engines and the constant small arms fire.

"You just shut up and drive mister!" yelled Deanta.

It seemed like the barrage would never end. Lasgun after lasgun was emptying its rounds into the Chimaera, hoping to make a dent. The occasional pulsing blast of a heavy bolter was heard, and whenever that happened everybody ducked as the heavy rounds threatened to break through the tank's armour. Sweat was pouring from Deanta's brow as she kept firing her lasgun at targets, her mind and body in an almost zen-like state of concentration. Row after row of buildings passed by, the only break being whenever they reached a crossroads, and she could see a road heading off into the distance.

"Ten seconds until the objective Sergeant!" screamed the driver. The vox system in the tank crackled and the voice of the Lieutenant filled the hull.

"All teams, we're coming out guns blazing!" he said, in Deanta's opinion stating the obvious.

"Five seconds Sergeant!"

"You heard the man, weapons now!" yelled Deanta, leaving her hull-mounted lasgun and picking up her own. She turned for a last minute check to see her fully armed squad standing facing the doorway, grim faces all. She turned to face the door, and couldn't help feeling a twinge of pride.

"Go, go!" shouted the driver, as the Chimaera shuddered to a sudden halt.

Without needing to say a word, Deanta and her squad rushed straight down the ramp and into a hail of firepower. Just like in the battleplan, the five Chimaeras had deployed in the courtyard of the facility, and rebel soldiers were in firing positions on the second floor balconies and windows of the facility. Barely a heartbeat after getting outside, one of her squad got shot straight through the throat.

"Cover!" She yelled, and the squad all pressed their bodies hard against the Chimaera's hull, the thick metal once again shielding them from fire. Not far from her was the Platoon HQ, with the Lieutenant taking pot-shots at the enemy with his boltpistol. He spotted her, and signalled with hand gestures to move out and take over the facility. She nodded, and turned to her squad.

"In through the front, fire and manoeuvre, watch for grenades, on 3." She said quietly, and began to count down with her hand. On three, the entire squad sprinted straight for the nearest entrance, Deanta ducking as a piece of architecture nearly ended up embedded in her shoulder, and with the whole squad under fire all the while.

Once inside, the squad pressed ahead quickly. A man sprang up with an autorifle, and immediately fell down again with a las hole in his skull. The squad moved through the seemingly endless corridor, and found a stairwell leading both up and down. Deanta quickly made the decision to split the squad.

"Ceros and Tiron, you and your Missile Launcher with me, and you Mossa. The rest of you, head down the stairs and secure the Promethium". Her orders were quickly followed, her squad suddenly reduced to four including herself. She took point, heading up the stairs quickly but cautiously. They were almost at the top of the stairs when a pair of rebels emerged from a doorway. They saw the squad and opened fire.

Deana heard the thump of a body hitting the stairs behind her, but she didn't turn around. She fired off an accurate burst of fire into one rebel, but she'd used up the entire power cell. Realising this, the second rebel pulled out a knife and charged at the Sergeant. Her whole world became the charging frame of this figure, knife ready to rend her flesh. Mostly by instinct, she thrust her bayonet upwards, and the figure stopped, a silver blade protruding from his spine.

Letting the adrenaline die down for a second, she breathed heavily and turned around. Mossa was the one they had shot, his slender frame lying almost peacefully at the bottom of the stair.

"Move it guys," she said simply, and forced herself through the doorway.

It was the entrance to the upper balcony. She could see that most of the platoon had gotten pinned down in the courtyard by a heavy bolter set up in a window directly across from her position.

"Frag, in that window, nail the bolter," she said pointing Ceros towards the target. There was a dreadful few seconds as they moved into position, and Tiron loaded a missile into the tube, where Deanta was sure they would be seen. Then there was a woosh as the projectile flew straight and true. There was a large explosion, and the heavy bolter was suddenly silenced. However, the cost had been their position was now compromised, and a whole choir of lasguns were pointed at the three of them, ready to sing.

"Down!" screamed Deanta, and the three hit the floor as parts of the balcony and the wall exploded all around them. However, the rest of the platoon was now able to set up its own heavy weaponry, and autocannon shells smashed into the middle of the balcony, tearing up both flesh and ferrocrete alike in plumes of blood and dust. Those rebels left standing quickly dove for cover, but within seconds yet more guardsmen appeared from windows and doorways, tearing up the survivors, and soon the entire balcony was occupied with grim-faced soldiers.

The Sergeant stood up, and without a second's thought all the guardsmen on the roof followed her down the stairs and towards the lower floor. The dozen or so soldiers advanced warily down the first staircase, then the second, then through two large rooms devoid of nothing but abandoned equipment and a few barrels. Then they came across the second half of Deanta's squad, all five still in one piece, gathered around a thick looking door. They all saluted Deanta, and she saluted back, inwardly glad to see them all alive.

"We believe there to be enemy located behind this door sir, but we were waiting for reinforcements before forcing entry, we have no idea how many are in there. I see you brought some friendly faces, sir."

"Yes, yes I did. I'll deal with this," she said matter-of-factly, and walked up to the door. She then banged on it loudly, making a satisfying clang.

"You in there! You have two choices! You can surrender, which admittedly might not result in your survival, I can offer you no guarantee that we won't line you up against a wall and shoot you! However, the other option is that about 50 Imperial Guardsmen blow up this door, and grenade whatever's left inside! What's it to be rebs?"

There was about ten seconds of silence. Just as Deanta was about to order a door breach, a voice rang out from the other side.

"Okay, we're going to give you the combination to unlock the door. You enter it onto the terminal to the right of the door! We're dropping our weapons now!" A clunking sound then followed.

"Okay, we're listening? What's the code?" she asked cautiously.

"2-1-5-2-0-9," Replied the voice.

Deanta gestured, and a guardsman began to enter the code. As one, the rest of the soldiers trained their guns at the door. The door slowly slid open, and the twenty or so men rushed into the room, almost indentical to the one they had just left, under Deanta's lead.

"None of you move!" she yelled. There were only five of the rebels anyway, and they were kneeling with their hands behind their head. The room, unlike the other two storage rooms they had entered, was almost totally filled with canisters of Promethium fuel, and it seemed strange that only a few men, men willing to surrender, were left guarding it. And not only that, these men were only armed with autoguns, hadn't even got basic armour on, and were all looking decidedly undernourished. Then a thought occurred to her.

She walked up to one of the five rebels the soldiers had now surrounded, and gestured at his arm with her lasgun.

"Roll up your sleeve."

The man, with greasy black hair and a gaunt face, obliged. Along his wrist, a number had been very crudely tattooed into his flesh. The more experienced guardsmen in the room immediately recognised what this meant.

"Sir?" asked one of her squad mates questioningly.

"These men have been conscripted into service, under the guarantee that their families would be spared, Zyros."


	3. Chapter 3

0813 Local Time, Fuel Depot 191-A

Lieutenant Promas wiped the sweat of his brow. It had been an intense firefight, with mercifully small casualties for his platoon; six fatalities, and four wounded. Even more fortunately, the Chimaeras remained undamaged. He took a deep breath, and beckoned his squad's vox operator over.

"Get me Company HQ Specialist. And also," he began whilst the Specialist accessed the correct wavelength, "could somebody assemble my Sergeants please."

"Sir, I have the Captain," came the voice of the Specialist.

Promas turned around and put on the vox headset.

"Sir this is Lieutenant Promas, reporting objectives completed sir."

"Excellent work Lieutenant," replied the hoarse tones of the Captain, "did you capture the installation intact, or were you forced to use ordnance?"

"The installation is intact sir, along with equipment and fuel, maybe fifty barrels."

"Might I ask if casualties were heavy, Lieutenant?"

"My platoon remains at 80% strength sir."

"Your orders from Regimental HQ remain the same, Promas, defend your positions until relief."

"Understood sir. One more thing, sir. They've been conscripting civilians with the promise their families will escape execution."

There was the unmistakeable sound of a sigh from the other end of the vox-link.

"Understood, Lieutenant. Carry on."

The link went dead. Promas had been concentrating on his conversation so much, he hadn't even noticed that his Sergeants had been assembled. Doroa, Mummura, Deanta, Pas and Fersk were all there, and healthy, he was glad to note.

"Orders remain the same, we hold here until relief. Deploy your squads in defensive formation, and construct whatever improvised fortifications are possible, if any. We're lucky; this courtyard is the only entrance to the facility, the rest of it is walled off by ferrocrete too thick for anything short of field artillery, and we'd know if they had that by now."

"What are we doing with the transports sir?" asked Fersk. It was a pertinent question; they weren't exactly meant for a heavy duty defence.

"Assuming that the enemy lack true armour-piercing weaponry, we keep them in the courtyard."

"I have a question, sir. What do we do with the conscripts?" asked Deanta. Of course it would be her that asked something like that.

"I'm assuming that you have a recommendation for me, Sergeant," said Promas with a hint of irony in his voice.

"Well, between me and the other Sergeants in the platoon sir," she began to the other four shifting a little uncomfortably, "we feel it would only be right to give them a chance to fight with us, sir."

"You're that confident in your loyalty to the God-Emperor, Deanta?" Promas fixed her with an interrogatory look.

"I am sir," she replied, meeting his gaze.

"Very well then, issue them with lasguns and flak jackets. They're your responsibility though, Sergeant," said Promas.

"Understood sir," replied Deanta.

"Dismissed, Sergeants, you have your orders."

"Sir!" they chorused as one, and saluted. Promas resisted the urge to smile at the parade-ground efficiency, and saluted back. Within moments of them reaching their squads, razorwire was hurriedly being retrieved from the Chimaeras, and the Platoon's autocannons were being set up on the balcony. Sandbags, from Emperor knows where, were being deployed wherever necessary and the Chimaeras were being reparked to face towards the gate, rather than away from it.

A few minutes later, Promas could hear distant weapons fire, and knew that either the other two Armoured Fist Platoons, or the rest of the Regiment, were fighting nearby. He resisted the urge to ask HQ for a battle report, they were almost certainly overwhelmed by data at the moment, along with trying to cooperate with two unfamiliar regiments. He was on the balcony, and scanned the nearby area with his scope once more; towards their starting point, he could see dust plumes, but the rest of the regiment were still out of visual range. He panned across the nearby visible streets, and still saw nothing. But he felt in his bones that this wouldn't last forever.

He went to his hastily constructed command post inside the facility. His vox-man, executive officer and weapons specialists were all sitting expectantly, but stood to attention once he came near.

"Something up, Lieutenant?" asked Diat, a sniper, used by now to trusting his commanding officer's instincts.

"I've got the taste of rain on my tongue, Diat," said Promas simply. His command staff nodded.

"Diat and Bimaa, I want you to snipe from the building across the street."

Without hesitation, the two of them picked up their sniper rifles and moved out. His sub-Lieutenant, Ijax, picked up his lasgun wordlessly.

"For a full planet, this fuel doesn't really amount to much Mas, but we really do need everything we can lay our hands on until the ion storms clear."

"Well then Turas," replied Ijax, "Let's hold down the fort."

No sooner had those words left his lips then a strange whirring noise filled the air.

"Mortars!" came a cry from outside, and by instinct the command squad ducked. The barely muffled sound of an explosion outside was accompanied by the ground shaking violently. Cries of alarm rang out from outside, and Promas assumed that what men were outside were hurriedly scrambling for cover. More rounds impacted, and the command squad were finding it hard to keep their balance. More ominous, however, was when the rounds stopped.

Without saying a word, Promas, Ijax, Yoros the vox-operator and Jec with his sniper rifle left for the balcony. Emerging outside, the situation was tense but calm. One Chimaera had been hit in the engine, and was now totally immobile, but other than that the majority of the damage had been dealt to the architecture.

Promas and his squad located themselves next to Deanta's unusually large squad, and readied their weapons. Without even the need for orders, the lines of Guardsmen on the balcony followed suit, along with those guarding the lower entrances.

As though in a dream, a detachment of rebel soldiers ran in front of the installation's gates, and within moments were torn to shreds by a combination of las fire, multilaser fire, autocannon shells and sniper rounds. Promas prayed to the God Emperor that it was going to stay this easy. Another detachment of two squads, another hail of fire. Followed by another, and then another. A pile of bodies was beginning to build outside of the gate.

Then the whirring sound returned once more. Everybody ducked as another four rounds exploded, inflicting no significant damage. However, a forty or more strong band of rebels had advanced under the covering fire, and unleashed their own barrage upon the defenders. Three teams of missile launchers took aim. One was instantly brought down by sniper fire from across the street, Diat and Bimaa no doubt. But two missiles were unleashed, one slamming into the turret of a Chimaera and blowing it to pieces, the other into the balcony and reducing a couple of men to pulp.

A figure with a grenade launcher took aim and fired at the window where Diat and Bimaa were sniping, and Promas watched with horror as the interior of the room exploded out through the window. The combined fire of the platoon was once more tearing holes into the enemy, but they were being constantly supplied with reinforcements from somewhere, and the attrition was beginning to tell on the platoon. The enemy were slowly attempting to force their way in, the Chimaeras' weapons not fast enough to intercept all of them.

Another rocket slammed into the balcony, but this time right next to Deanta's squad, taking another couple of men with it. Las fire was reducing the platoon's fighting strength one by one. A volley was unleashed upon the command squad, with some unknown intelligence guiding the enemy towards a valuable target. A lasgun shot hit Promas in the shoulderpad of his flak armour, another hit Yoros in the leg, and another hit Jec square in the chest. Suddenly the command squad had been effectively disabled.

Promas only took a moment to look at his shoulderpad; he hadn't been wounded, but the impact had brought him down nonetheless. The tide of the battle was beginning to turn in the enemy's favour, sheer force of numbers overwhelming their superior defensive position. Then suddenly some kind of object began to roll towards the enemy positions. With a start, Promas realised it was a barrel of Promethium fuel.

"Platoon, fire on that barrel!" he yelled hoarsely, and his men duly obliged. No-one would ever know whose shot penetrated the shell of the barrel, but regardless, it blew up with a mighty, deafeningly loud explosion that brought all gunfire to an end.

Black plumes of smoke drifted up from the remains of the gateway, and charred corpses lay everywhere. But despite the apparent devastation, Promas knew it would only have bought them moments at best. Then suddenly, a figure stood up, and as though the world was in slow motion, Promas watched with horror as it raised a plasma rifle right at him. And then with a pink mist, the figure slumped to the floor. A sniper round from across the street had been quicker to the punch than the rebel's trigger finger. Promas allowed himself to feel a little pleased that at least one of the two snipers in the building was still alive.

Suddenly Yoros' vox-unit beeped, and the injured operator still had the strength to answer.

"This is 3rd Platoon HQ responding."

There was a pause for a couple of seconds.

"Understood, over and out." Yoros breathed in deeply for a moment, understandably given the fact that he was wounded.

"That was Company HQ; the Company is seconds away from our position." And sure enough, men in familiar uniforms within moments entered the compound, eager to aid the wounded and congratulate the survivors, whilst a two platoon-strong wave of infantry was advancing in loose order down the street, to push out any remaining rebel forces. A few scattered bursts of las fire could be heard, but they quickly fell silent.

The members of the Company HQ headed straight into the compound, Captain Hemaxos leading the way. Promas slumped to the floor, and the energy he had used up during the fighting was suddenly taken away from him. The Captain and his command staff entered the compound, and found their way to the balcony. Men who had no energy left to give nevertheless stood straight upright and saluted. The Captain filed past the remaining defenders, and then suddenly there he was, right in front of Promas.

Using some of the last of his strength, Promas got to his feet and crisply saluted the Captain, who saluted back.

"Well, you've managed to pull it off Turas," said the Captain admiringly.

"Yes sir," was all that Promas managed.

"Let me fill you in on the situation, Lieutenant. The other two platoons also completed their objectives. 2ND Platoon captured the Ammo Dump with relatively light casualties. 1st Platoon had all its Chimaeras disabled by enemy improvised explosives, and proceeded to their target on foot. They managed to destroy the enemy communications hub beyond repair. However, they suffered heavy casualties in the process."

Promas simply nodded.

"The advance, overall, is going well. But enough about that for now, we're setting up the Company Command Post here, we're to act as the staging point for Fuel supply operations for the advance. We'll be setting up our own triage here any moment now, I suggest that you and your men get seen to, and at least have a few minutes out of the firing line."

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

As Promas helped Yoros up, and half-carried him down the stairs with the assistance of Ijax, he noted the use of the word 'minutes' in the Captain's reassurance to him. As though a few minutes rest would really be enough time to heal the wounds from today's fighting, he thought to himself.

As the trio headed towards the makeshift triage, already operational and full of casualties of various sorts, he encountered Sergeant Deanta, who seemed unscathed other than a scratch across her cheek. His mind was growing fuzzy, but there was one thing he had to know.

"Sergeant, do you know who the guardsman was who got out the Promethium barrel?" he asked a little groggily.

"Yes sir. It was one of the conscripts sir," she replied simply.

Promas took a little second to arrange this new knowledge, then said simply;

"They're part of the platoon now." And with that, he collapsed onto the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

0852 Local Time, Fuel Depot 191-A

The Sergeant once again did a headcount of her squad, even though she had done so three times already; for some strange reason she found it comforting. Ceros and Tiron and their missile launcher, Zyros who had managed to pick up a sword from Emperor knows where, Matillon with his flamer and his twin brother Jekonor with his own flamer, and three of the conscripts, now regular soldiers. Deanta had found out their names; Gage, Prissam and Mir. The three, poorly equipped insurgency fighters mere hours ago, looked totally at ease in their 54th uniforms, and had fit right in with the rest of the squad. Indeed, Deanta would remember Gage's trick with the Promethium fuel for a very long time indeed.

The eight of them were sitting outside the makeshift triage centre, none of them being injured in a way that had required attention. For once, Deanta had her helmet off, letting her cool down a little. Though it didn't exactly reveal feminine features; her hair was shorter than a lot of the men's. Zyros was absent-mindedly playing with his sword, and Deanta decided to indulge her curiousity.

"So, Zyros, where in Emperor's name did you find that thing?" she asked.

"Well I was standing at the gates, just as they were starting to move the bodies," he began, "and just as they started moving them, I saw something shiny. And, well, you know me, Sergeant. I asked them to stop, and I tried to pick the thing up. It was heavier than I thought, so I pulled harder, and this whole thing came out. And I thought, why not?"

"Yes that sounds like you," said Deanta wearily, "you're lucky you didn't scratch yourself on the blade."

The sound of approaching footsteps was rapidly followed by the appearance of the Lieutenant and his surviving staff. As one the squad stood up and saluted. He saluted back.

"Squad, we're moving out. The heavily wounded are staying here to wait for med-evac if necessary, the rest of us are straight to the frontlines a few miles ahead, they need mechanised support apparently."

"What's the platoon's strength, sir?" asked Deanta.

"We're down to 35 effectives, and the three operational Chimaeras. However, I persuaded the Captain to let us borrow one of the resupply transports; I'll be sharing the space with a few barrels of Promethium, so here's hoping they don't have any explosives. We're shipping out in 2 minutes, Sergeant," he said saluting Deanta neatly.

"Understood sir," she replied, saluting back.

"Right!" she began, turning to face the squad, "You heard the Lieutenant! Pack up and move people!"

Moments later, the squad were harnessed into the passenger section of the same Chimaera from before, complete with dents in the hull, the engines already purring; it seemed like the transport's machine spirit was eager to get back into the fray.

"Sergeant," began Mir in his quiet voice, "do each of the squads have their own transport? Or do we just end up with whatever?"

"The second, Mir," replied Deanta, "It's a total coincidence that we're in the same transport we used to get here. Transports get reassigned in a heartbeat, especially when we need them to do everything. The damned ion storms mean we have to be self sufficient."

The driver banged on the wall of his pen, and said loudly "Five seconds, Sergeant."

Within moments, the squad felt a lurch as the engines roared into action. While they were still in friendly territory, Deanta and a couple of the other regulars took the opportunity to show the three ex-conscripts how to operate the hull-mounted lasguns. Another couple of minutes passed while they headed towards the Regiment's frontline. They would be rejoining the rest of the company, presumably."

"Come on for Emperor's sake..." muttered Deanta under her breath. On cue, the vox-speakers in the compartment came online.

"This is the Lieutenant. Soldiers, our objective is to provide an armoured advance to assist the rest of the Company, who have gotten bogged down by heavy barricades. We will then be entering the city centre at the head of the Regiment's advance, where the Company will rendezvous with other companies from the 2nd Battalion, in order to capture the objective designated Spire-04. Heavy rebel defences have been spotted, and Command would like to know what they're guarding so heavily."

"Ten seconds until we reach the frontline, Sergeant!" yelled the driver above the roar of the engines, and the growing din of weapons fire.

"Squad, on the lasguns!" roared Deanta, as she stood up and took her position."

"Brace yourselves squad!" yelled the driver, "We're about to hit barricades!" Sure enough, the Chimaera bucked upwards with a loud thump that shook the tank's innards violently, then shook again when gravity brought the Chimaera back down onto the road. The transport once again began to heat up from multilaser fire.

Deanta had quickly regained her balance, and was already looking for targets. The tanks had been deployed in a 'V' shaped formation, to avoid friendly fire, and their Chimaera was one of two tanks at the tip of that V. Very quickly, she sighted figures in windows, and unleashed her lasgun on them. Her accuracy had improved from the last time, and she felt satisfied that more of the rebels she saw were falling to the ground this time.

Unlike the last time, they were rebels directly in the way of the assault, and so she found herself also firing on figures desperately attempting to dodge out of the way of the speeding transports. Just like the last time, small arms fire was constantly being targeted against the Chimaera, but every round aimed at them was a round that couldn't hit the hundreds of groundsloggers advancing in the Chimaera's wake. Suddenly, there was a deafening bang, and the entire tank shook violently, knocking the gunners to the floor.

"What the hell was that?" yelled Deanta as she picked herself up, noting that the transport was still moving forward.

"Krak Missile Sergeant!" yelled the driver, "We're within a mile of the objective so they're bringing out the big toys! Don't worry by the way, that was just a glancing hit!"

"Frak me..." muttered Deanta, as she hurriedly re-sighted her lasgun. Glancing hit? It had felt more like a damned earthquake!

The vox-speakers suddenly came online once again.

"This is the Colonel, to all 54th Companies, vox-transmissions to the Navy have been restored, repeat they have been restored. If any unit requires air support, contact your Battalion HQ now!"

Deanta couldn't help but feel relieved, even as she kept firing on rebel soldiers; now the attack force was no longer on its own.

"Sergeant!" shouted the driver, sounding unusually scared, "You need to get hold of some air support now! My gunner has just spotted a Leman Russ tank up ahead!"

"Frak me!" yelled Zyros.

"Can the chatter!" roared Deanta, cursing as she operated her vox headset as quickly as she could.

"This is Battalion HQ."

"Battalion this is 3rd Platoon, Savage Company, enemy Leman Russ sighted at my position, requesting a bombing run!"

"Roger, we're contacting-" Suddenly, the transmission was cut off as a tank shell exploded barely metres away from the Chimaera, and the transport swerved wildly, throwing the passengers onto the floor.

"Sergeant, that took out the array!" shouted the driver, Deanta barely hearing him over the ringing in her ears, "If that air support doesn't get here soon, that's it!" A loud booming noise rang out, another tank shell. Luckily this one was inaccurate, and missed the Chimaera entirely, but Deanta knew the third shot would be it, and stood up. She didn't want to die flat on her stomach. But the enemy tank never got to take that shot.

A loud sound filled the air, like that of a very large, mechanical and angry bee swarm. Deanta recognised the noise as that of the engines of a Marauder bomber.

"Stop the transport now!" she told the driver, losing her footing once more as the tank rapidly came to a halt. There was a second of silence, and then the air was filled like the roar of a vengeful, primordial god. The very ground shook violently beneath the transport.

"Did they hit anything?" asked Deanta, forcing herself onto her feet once more.

"Hit anything?!" replied the driver incredulously, "There's nothing left!"

Both the crew and guardsmen allowed themselves to relax for a moment, before the driver warned the squad he was about to start the engines again.

"I never asked you your names," said Deanta referring to the Chimaera's crew, the engine once again roaring into action.

"I'm Specialist 1st Class Dhutas, the gunner up there in the turret is Specialist Xac, but we just call him X, and up front with me is Specialist Naris, and she's both the hull-bolter operator and backup driver," replied the driver.

"Dhutas, is it just me or are we not being fired at anymore?" asked Deanta curiously.

"Yeah Sergeant, I think the fact that a lot of them got vaped just now might have given them room for pause," replied Dhutas sardonically, "Ten seconds from objective squad."

"You know the drill now! Weapons!" cried Deanta, as she picked up her lasgun and turned to face the ramp. With a crash the door opened, just as the transport ground to a halt, confronting Deanta with the sight of the 2 un-mechanised Platoons of Savage Company running up just being. She and she squad fell out, and turned to face their objective, which turned out to be a Skyspire, a hundred stories tall and covered in glass, designed in a triangular fashion. It had been turned into a small fortress by the rebels, and small arms fire was darting from windows on every storey.

What they were firing at was three entire companies of the 54th , trading blow for blow. The air was filled with the noise of heavy bolters, autocannons, missile launchers, and seemingly a whole planet's worth of lasgun fire. For every missile that shot through a Skyspire window, another one came straight back and created havoc among the 54th. Deanta's own company hadn't yet been deployed, but it was clear they were about to. She looked around and saw another seven Chimaeras parked in addition to her Platoon's four, the carriers of 1st and 2nd Platoons. She tried not to let the dismay show on her face when she saw how little members of 1st Platoon seemed to be present.

The Lieutenant disembarked from his Chimaera, and beckoned over his Platoon, now reduced to three squads.

"Looks like we're going to be meeting heavier resistance here than ever before, multiple companies' worth of enemy and a whole arsenal of toys for them to use. The entire Company is going for this one. Our objective is to force an entry into the building, and to take it floor by floor. Questions?"

He was greeted by silence and looks of grim determination.

"Use cover as much as you can. Heavy weapons, we need you to keep their heads down, as much as that's going to be difficult. Go."

As one, the guardsmen of 3rd platoon rushed into the action, followed within seconds by the rest of Savage Company. They unleashed a withering hail of lasfire onto the Skyspire, and within a few seconds autocannon shells were pouring into the building like rain, ten teams of gunners firing almost non-stop. The rest of the squad joined up with the frontline established by the other three companies, and in the next few minutes made several attempts to charge the front entrance to the Skyspire, but every attempt was beaten back. Heavy bolter fire began to direct itself against them, and a missile lanced downwards from a high window, taking an autocannon team with it. Attempt after attempt was made, but without heavy firepower the enemy seemed inpregnable to the guardsmen of the 54th.

Deanta found herself once again fighting next to the Lieutenant's command squad behind some improvised cover. Neither squad had taken any casualties, but she wasn't confident about how long that was going to remain the case. She unloaded cell after cell of lasgun shots into the windows of the tall building, but she didn't even know if she'd hit anything, or anyone. She turned to look at the Lieutenant, seeking his guidance in getting past this impasse, and saw that he was talking on his vox-headset, having taken over its operation from his previously injured staffer.

"No sir, it would be a pleasure sir," and with that moved the headset away from his mouth. He looked strangely pale, and yet pleased at the same time.

"Lieutenant, what's up?" asked Deanta simply.

"Well, Deanta," began Promas, "That was Brother-Sergeant Samel of the Adeptus Astartes, Elder Servants Chapter, 5th Company."

No, it can't be, thought Deanta. We can't have gotten that lucky.

"And what did he have to say sir?"

"His squad are on their way to assist."


	5. Chapter 5

0905 Local Time, Spire-04

As one, Brother-Sergeant Samel and his squad sallied forth from their Rhino transport to unleash fury on the enemies of the Imperium, charging straight for the nearest entrance to the Skyspire. A barrage of weapons fire was unleashed upon them, but their arcane armour was far too strong to be damaged in the slightest. Samel felt no impact as he effortlessly crashed through the remains of a doorway, and began to unleash controlled bursts of bolter fire on the defenders. His squad followed suit, calmly and carefully choosing targets and eliminating them as though they were under no pressure at all. Soon all the rebels in this entrance chamber were dead and the squad speedily moved onwards to the Central Hall.

Located in the centre of the building, an ornate and marble wrought stairway led directly to the fifth floor of the building, which had once been the main hub for the Administratum's local division. The vast chamber, occupying the majority of the ground floor and perhaps three hundred metres across, was filled with rebels and their supplies, who had not yet been alerted to the squad's presence. With a gesture from Samel, the squad took the cover of some boxes. Brother Hammur readied his heavy bolter, and then unleashed a furious hail upon the rebels. Taken by surprise, many fell to the devastating power of the heavy rounds, the projectiles simply blowing their poorly armoured bodies to pieces. The rest of the squad opened fire, killing scores of rebels with a clinical efficiency.

With a signal from Samel, the squad in an instant rushed out from their cover to advance upon the enemy. As though he had already known, lasgun fire began to join the bolter fire of his own marines, as Imperial Guard troops began to advance via the path the Marine squad had already cleared. Covered by the ever-increasing number of Guardsmen entering the chamber, the squad began to advance up the marble staircase, shrugging off the firepower of the rebels and engaging only those directly in their path. In barely a minute they had reached the top of the staircase, and began engaging those rebels on the balcony, who were attempting to pin down the advancing Guardsmen below. Rather than waste ammunition, the squad engaged in close quarters combat, the 8 feet tall, power armoured and genetically enhanced warriors worth more than ten normal humans in combat even before their superior training was taken into account.

With ease, Samel used his bolter as a bludgeoning weapon, crushing both sternums and skulls by the dozen. The narrow space of the balcony, surrounded by thick walls with only two doorways on the one hand, and by the 5 storey drop to the ground floor on the other, was ideally suited for the Marines, and they brooked no resistance. Having killed half of the rebels that had formerly occupied the balcony, the rest fled through one of the two exits, some of them dropping their weapons in sheer panic. The Marines took a moment to regroup around Samel, who was about to press his squad's advantage when he saw something that surprised him.

A squad of Guardsmen, eight strong, was advancing rapidly up the staircase, having braved the torrents of lasgun exchanges still taking place on the ground floor, and the fire being directed at them as they ran up the stairs. Against all odds, they managed to reach the top of the stairs and comparative safety, having taken no casualties on the way. They stopped briefly to catch their breath, during which time Samel quickly came to a decision. He walked over to the Guardsmen, conscious of how he was towering over even the tallest of them.

He allowed himself to smile a little under his helmet, as he saw the previously fatigue-reddened faces of the Guardsmen suddenly drain white in his presence.

"I am Brother-Sergeant Samel, of the Elder Servants chapter," he said simply.

"Sergeant Mummura, 3rd Platoon, Savage Company, 54th Zornossos Infantry," replied the Sergeant, overcoming his initial fear of the towering Samel.

"Sergeant, my Brother-Captain sent me as reinforcements to your attack group, at which point your Colonel requested my presence at this objective. Our mission is to infiltrate this structure, discover the importance of it, and to disrupt the insurrection's goal. I would be honoured if your squad were to provide assistance to my Brothers in this operation."

The Sergeant stood stunned for a second, before answering.

"It would be my honour to assist you, Brother-Sergeant Samel."

"Be advised, Sergeant, we move quickly, and we cannot afford to slow our pace for your squad. Our intelligence suggests that we head to the Tenth Level."

Samel turned, and signalled to his squad to move out. They and the Guardsmen made their way to the nearest of the two doorways, the Marines entering first to protect the more frail Guardsmen from any fire. However, the corridor was empty, and the ad hoc unit moved quickly through the narrow bowels of the interior of the level, briefly pausing only to check the now abandoned data-pens for an enemy presence, that would once have been home to scores of clerks.

Direct co-operation between Astartes and Guardsmen was generally frowned upon by both organisations, citing differences in tactics, capacity and performance, but the Elder Warriors made it an unofficial habit, due to the Chapter's philosophy of attempting to give equal respect to all loyal servants of the Emperor. They did not, however, ignore the post-Horus Heresy ruling that Astartes should never command ordinary humans in battle, and restricted their co-operation to guidance and support.

Samel led, as the Marines and Guardsmen advanced up a stairwell to the next level. The sound of weapons fire came loudly from the next room, and the Brother-Sergeant advanced at a run, bolter at the ready. Several rebels were firing at the men still outside on the ground through broken windows, but they quickly fell to bolter and lasgun fire, hopefully aiding the still embattled companies outside. The eighteen moved at some speed through the room to avoid any friendly fire, and found the stairwell to the 7th level in a room just outside.

Just as before, the unit advanced with some haste up the stairs and onto the next level. This level was suddenly much colder, as a lot of damage had been done to it by missiles and autocannon rounds, exposing a lot of the interior to the outside. This time Samel took them on a route avoiding the windowed areas, and quickly located the next stairwell.

Upon advancing to the 8th level, Samel suddenly found himself under autocannon fire as soon as he left the stairs. He quickly took cover beside a doorway, and signalled the rest of the unit to stay on the stairwell. He briefly peered round the edge of the doorway, his enhanced vision absorbing every detail. The enemy had set up some kind of defended command post on this level in an unusually large room, perhaps 20 metres across, with a clear view to the stairwell and the doorway. An autocannon was set up using some boxes as cover, and a part of ten rebels was quickly moving behind other makeshift defences. He stopped looking, and carefully took out a frag grenade. He pulled the primer, and let the grenade cook for a couple of seconds, then threw it behind him, past the doorway and into the room, his vast strength letting it carry all the way to the autocannon team. With only one second left on the timer, he had left them no chance to evade the grenade, and he felt the rumble of it exploding.

"Advance!" he yelled to the rest of the unit, in a rare use of a vocal order. He charged through the doorway, bolter at the ready. The rest of the unit poured in behind him, running up from the stairwell, and the joint fire of the two squads eliminated the remaining defenders. More rebels were quickly pouring into the room through a side door though, and Samel knew they couldn't afford to be held up for anything length of time.

"Brother Jakb, distraction," said Samel simply, and motioned the rest of the unit to follow him to the next stairwell, directly ahead. Under fire, the Marines and Guardsmen moved quickly up the stairwell except for Samel, who waited for Jakb to catch up. His flamer, which had remained unused during the battle until now, was bellowing great swathes of flaming promethium at the rebels, reducing many to charred corpses on the floor. The rest of the enemy fled, and Jakb retreated to the stairway, moving past Samel who then followed him up.

He gestured to two members of his squad, and the three of them placed krak grenades around the top of the stairwell. The Marines and Guardsmen quickly moved to safety, as Samel primed a frag grenade and tossed it next to the other grenades. The grenades blew up with a loud explosion, and once the dust had cleared, it became obvious that they'd put the stairwell out of action, eliminating any risk of pursuit. The unit reassembled, and pressed on for the final stairwell, to the tenth floor, which was only a short distance away.

Before heading up, each Marine and Guardsman did a final weapons check, as none of them expected the 10th floor to be unguarded.

"Brothers, and Guardsmen, my primary objective has been updated," began Samel, "intelligence indicates that whatever is being guarded is located in the basement floor, only accessible by an elevator mechanism located on the 10th level. We will locate the mechanism and head downward, where we will identify what is being concealed."

The Guardsmen nodded to show they understood. Samel quickly checked the readiness of his Marines, and was pleased to see that all they awaited was the order to move out. He looked with more concern at the Guardsmen, who were presumably tiring by now. However, the stoic courage each Guardsman displayed on their face made his heart feel glad. He signalled the Marines to move up the stairway, and the final stage of the operation had begun.

The 10th Level was almost identical to the 1st, with the same cavernous space and the same ornate marble staircase 5 storeys tall. The major difference was that there was a small hollow space in the side of this staircase, almost certainly where the elevator was located, and that a horde of insurgents wasn't occupying this chamber. There were however about forty rebel insurgents, all of them between the unit and their objective. They had no choice but to launch a frontal assault.

Brother Hammur quickly set himself, and opened fire once again with a roar from his heavy bolter, alerting the enemy to their presence but felling three of the enemy in seconds. The enemy platoon scattered, but was quickly rallied by its commander and began to open fire on the Marines and Guardsmen. The Marines and Guardsmen charged, the Marines outpacing the Zornossans but not by a great deal, with the exception of Hammur who was moving slowly to retain accuracy. Samel and his men simply shrugged off the lasgun fire, and fired their anointed bolters once more at the enemies of the Emperor. The Guardsmen were not so lucky however, and two of them fell to the enemy's volleys. But the firepower of the Marines and Guardsmen had reduced the enemy platoon to a dozen men, and once the Marines entered hand to hand combat, it was all over.

The unit was about to head to the lift when a seemingly dead figure lifted his laspistol and pointed it straight at Sergeant Mummura. With a loud crack, Samel crushed the man's skull with his armoured foot. Mummura looked at Samel with both gratitude and respect, and then walked over to the bodies of his two dead men. He retrieved two pieces of cloth; one from each Guardmen's wrist, which Samel assumed was for some kind of identification or cultural purpose. Mummura then walked up to Samel, and offered him the two pieces of cloth. With great care and reverence, Samel took the garments from the Guardsman, and placed them inside an empty storage compartment of his armour.

The unit, having paused a moment, then pressed on to the entrance, which did indeed lead to the lift. It was clearly designed for heavy loads, as it easily accommodated the ten Astartes and six Guardsmen. It was swiftly determined which rune activated the mechanism; the doors then closed, and with a jolt the lift began its journey down. There was a moment's silence, until Samel broke it.

"It's a good thing Kuz isn't here; ever since he trained as a techmarine it pains him to see a neglected machine spirit, even in a device such as this."

"Brother-Sergeant," began Mummura, the lift continuing to descend, "do you have any idea as to what they're keeping in the basement level? What could be some important that an entire regiment's worth of men would be assigned to guard it?"

"It would be foolish of me to presume with no data available," replied Samel, "but I have suspicions."

After what seemed an eternity, the lift came to a halt, and the doors opened. The unit came out weapons ready, but met no resistance. They found themselves passing from the elevator room into a long, poorly lit corridor, constructed of bare ferrocrete, the dim light unaffecting the advanced vision of the Marines. They passed through the corridor with some trepidation, but again were met with no resistance. They then moved through a doorway into a chamber, similarly lit and similarly Spartan, with a large mechanical door blocking their passage. A Guardsman moved over to search for a release mechanism.

Samel looked at the door, his expression under his helmet one of suspicion.

"Witness the construction of this door. It would be poorly constructed if it were designed to keep interlopers out, for all the locking mechanisms face outward, towards a foe. No, this seems clearly intended to keep the contents in. My instincts tell me we will not meet resistance on the other side."

The Guardsman located the release mechanism, and with a hissing noise the door withdrew into recesses in the doorway. The unit then cautiously advanced.

What they entered was quite astonishing. They had entered a vast space, perhaps a mile square, filled with people. The vault, if that was even the word, was of a similar design to the corridor outside, bleak and spartan. No facilities were immediately obvious other than a few scatterings of ramshackle shelters. Their presence had become noticed, and a curious crowd had begun to gather, though they were wary of armed soldiers and especially of the towering Marines. Each figure was suffering from various degrees of malnutrition, and their right sleeves were torn off at the elbow, exposing a crudely tattooed number on their arm.

"Brother-Sergeant, I don't understand, why are they guarding these people? We've seen these tattoos on the conscripts in the rebel forces, who claimed they were forced to join as a guarantee that their families would be spared. Spared from what?" asked Mummura.

"Because, Sergeant Mummura, I believe these people are a different ethnicity to the heretics, is that correct?" he said, addressing the question to the small crowd.

"Yes," answered a male voice, "They are Kankinnen and we are all Myundese."

"That, Sergeant Mummura, is the source of this entire insurrection. My guess is, the planetary governor was of the same ethnicity as of these individuals. As a result of policies, the other ethnic group began to cause discontent, resulting in a rebellion that killed the governor. As retribution, they carried out a campaign of systematic violence against those who shared his ethnic origins, seizing total control of the planetary government. The movement was at this point probably hijacked by the heretic element, which then destroyed the Emperor's loyal servants here and attempted to remove the planet from the Imperium. Is that an accurate assumption?" Samel once again addressed the crowd with the question.

"Yes," replied the same voice simply, and the entire crowd murmured agreement.

"There are maybe a million people in here..." said Mummura.

"There were three million when they put us in here," stated a young woman in the crowd.

There was a moment of deathly silence.

"It's so..." began Mummura, faltering.

"Senseless? Primal? Traitorous to the light of the Emperor?" replied Samel. "I would gladly sacrifice millions to preserve the Imperium, to protect the Emperor, or if it was what needed to be done in the Emperor's name. But what you have seen here Sergeant Mummura is the result of incompetence, gross incompetence, in itself a crime against the Emperor, combined with millions of people forgetting their duty to the Emperor and instead indulging in their petty, vicious desires. What you have seen evidenced here is not isolated, it is planet wide. There is no depraved cult at work here, or xenos influence, or eldritch sorcery. Simply barbarism." Samel ended his speech with a clear note of utter disgust and contempt in his voice

There was another silent moment.

"We both must contact our commands now," began Samel, "You must contact your regiment and I must contact my Brother-Captain. We shall need great manpower to free these humans from their captivity."

"Yes, you're right," replied Mummura simply, as Samel walked away a little distance to activate his com-link.

Mummura activated his vox-headset for the first time since entering the complex, and activated the channel for Regiment HQ. The green light came on, and the connection was established.

"This is Sergeant Mummura, 3rd Platoon, Savage Company reporting in. I'm going to need the Colonel on here as soon as possible. He's not going to believe what I'm going to tell him..."


	6. Chapter 6

1450 Local Time, 54th Zornossos Infantry Regimental HQ

Colonel Kelios sighed. It had been a very taxing assault, all told. It had only finally concluded in the past twenty minutes, with the last vestiges of the rebel forces eliminated. All told, the operation had been successful, and could have gone far worse. His own regiment, the 54th, had performed extremely well, and had lost only 10% of its strength due to casualties, and the 31st Bostran had also performed admirably, capturing its section of the city far ahead of schedule. However, the performance of the 64th Kesraa Infantry had been another matter entirely.

"How much did the 64th cost us, in terms of time?" asked Kelios wearily. He was standing with Commisar Gerwin, 1st Battalion's Hadonae, 2nd Battalion's Degeos, and his second-in-command, Major Laogos.

"An additional two hours sir," began Laogos in his deep voice, "we had to assist half of their companies in the end."

"And even then, a lot of those companies had taken high casualties," elaborated Hadonae, whose 1st Battalion had borne the task of assisting the Kesraan infantrymen, "I'd estimate that regiment has lost a third of its strength wounded or killed."

Each of the five men bore displeased expressions at this; the campaign on this world was expected to last between three weeks and two months, and such casualty rates in a single day were totally unacceptable.

"As for where responsibility lies?" asked Kelios.

"Well, sir, "began Hadonae, "a Colonel is the head of his regiment, and is responsible for it. But having heard my men's reports, I would state that the blame mostly lies on Company commanders in the 64th, whose tactics seemed to consist of infantry rushes, totally unsuited to an urban environment, and contrary to their Colonel's orders."

"I would agree with the Lieutenant-Colonel's assessment," said Gerwin, mildly surprising the others with his contribution; Commissars were not known for giving commanders the benefit of the doubt. "From what my own sources have gathered, not only were those of Captain rank in their regiment incompetent, a sizeable portion of the Commissars in that regiment were, it pains me to say, failing to properly execute their duties."

"I received intelligence that one Captain, when communications to the Navy were restored, ordered a Vendetta Gunship attack on a Skyspire, Spire-24, when his company and one other had already managed to advance to the 50th level. Almost a full company's worth of troops were killed or grievously wounded," added Laogos.

"This genocide... it is heresy, pure and simple. I can think of no redeeming characteristics for this slaughter. Not only that, these rebels attempted to secede from the Imperium. For these crimes, there can be no forgiveness," stated Gerwin bluntly. The rest of the command staff all agreed with him.

"This is listed in Imperial records as a Civilised world..." began Kelios, "and yet I have seen no Death world where this kind of practice would be tolerated. On some worlds, they war amongst themselves in order to produce greater warriors for Mankind, and on others rebellions are overlooked by the Imperium if they continue to provide their Tithe. But on this world, one man's gross incompetence snowballed into something the likes of which I've never seen before, and that cost this planet millions upon millions of lives. What a waste."

The five men, all of them already veterans of war, suddenly looked far older than their years as for a brief second, the strain of their efforts showed. And then it was gone.

"How ironic," said Degeos with a bitter smile, "that they ended up guarding the very individuals they sought to destroy? That puzzled me a little, until I realised that the ion storms also affected their own communications. Their inability to communicate meant our advances caught them completely off guard, and the isolated enemy units simply attempted to defend their current locations."

"Additionally, the Skyspires were prime defensive locations," pointed out Laogos, "our lack of heavy artillery, heavy armour, or for the initial stages air support, meant that we were reduced to using our infantry in mass assaults. Were it not for the assistance of Astartes squads, they may very well have been far more costly to our men."

"Speaking of Astartes, did anyone else notice how they actively sought to engender co-operation?" asked Hadonae. The other mean all nodded in agreement.

"The Angels of Death are one of the greatest weapons of the God Emperor, and with the exception of a handful of individuals are beyond any reproach, but I will certainly say that they are not given to this level of close support," commented Gerwin.

"Speaking of the conscripts," he continued, "I notice that some of them have been volunteered into our own regiment, and have been issued with uniforms and weapons, so that our actual overall losses are far lesser than the casualty reports would indicate."

There was a somewhat tense silence.

"Does this meet with your approval, Commissar?" asked Kelios somewhat cautiously.

"Yes, yes of course it does. They may not be from the same world as you Colonel, but they are loyal, fanatically devoted to our cause, and aim to enact vengeance upon the enemies of Mankind." The tense atmosphere dissipated with his words.

"Indeed," continued Gerwin, "I would recommend an even bolder course of action, and allow these people to form their own regiments, though with supervision, Commissars, and at least temporarily an off-world officer corps until their own men gain enough combat experience and officer training."

"Well that's what I'm going to recommend to the Lord Solar Commissar, but I'm only a Colonel, and my influence is not high among Crusade command."

"And what of the 64th Kesraa?" asked Hadonae, "Something needs to be done about that situation as soon as possible."

"I'm going to have to give you the same answer," replied Kelios with a sigh, "I'll raise the matter but I cannot guarantee a result."

"Colonel Kelios sir!" said a voice carrying the unmistakeably enthusiastic tones of Specialist Theano.

"Yes, Specialist?" replied Kelios.

"You've just received an order from the Lord General to report to his position at your earliest possible convenience, sir."

"Did he state why, Specialist?" asked Kelios with some confusion on his face.

"He said, sir, that your uniform was no longer befitting a man of your rank, and he needed to speak to you about it. He's promoting you to General, sir."

2 Weeks Later, 1750 Local Time, UBO-381

Deanta was getting sick of the sight of Skyspires, sitting as she was in a semi ruined apartment block looking directly onto one with the rest of her squad. Over the course of the campaign on this world, it seemed like she'd had to take part in the capturing of at least one of them per day, and each of them had been tiring, and at least a little bloody. They hadn't lost a single man since the first day of the campaign, surprisingly, due to several major factors; the first day of campaigning had inflicted a more crippling blow to the planetary insurgency than had first been realised, the division had been able to acquire a proper level of support during operations, and also her Platoon had been upgraded to Veteran status.

In practice, this had translated into her men being treated as a special resource, and only being used in sparing circumstances, and whilst this had still meant a daily deployment to various combat zones, the overall operations had limited objectives that her squad could quickly and efficiently. They'd even been transported using Valkyries for 3 operations, which had been worth it just for the first time when Prissam had thrown up. He'd never quite lived that down.

"So Gage," she began, "you'd better be staying with the regiment. I know they're going to be forming up native regiments soon, but you take one step towards a recruiting office and I'll be dragging you straight back."

"Got you sarge," he said with a smirk. Over the past two weeks, despite all the death that he'd seen, he'd managed to rid himself of much of the psychological trauma he'd suffered previously.

"Can I ask you something, Gage? And Prissam, and Mir," asked Ceros, who had a calming tone to his voice at odds with his role as a heavy weapons man. The three men all nodded.

"Well," Ceros continued, "I know that not all of the Kankinnen, maybe not even most of them, were the guys who were responsible for all of this, or for what they did to your people. But I was wondering two things; the first, if you had to serve with a Kankinnen at some point in the future, would you? And would you want to see the Kankinnen removed from your world?"

"What made you ask that?" asked Mir quietly.

"I've heard talk that the regiments that they're gonna set up for your world will be open to both groups, but I've also heard that they're considering awarding your people sole custody of the world."

"I first have a question for you," replied Mir, "has the Lord General stated that he will execute the entire insurgency that can be found, and all people who took part in the killings?"

"Yes he did," replied Kyros.

"Then what possible objection could I have to a Kankinnen serving with me, if he is loyal to the Emperor, had nothing to do with what happened to my people, and has my back?" answered Mir.

"As for the second question," he continued, "We should explain something. Prissam, you should explain this, you're better at explaining it than I am."

"About five centuries ago," began Prissam in his deep, reflective voice, "Our two peoples lived pretty equally, and the ancient wars were pretty much that, ancient. It was getting to the point where nobody seemed to care about the distinction. Then a group of extremists turned up, and basically expounded the view that the Kankinnen were racially inferior, a parasite on society, and unfit for governing. They got themselves arrested fairly quickly, and they were mostly all executed as I recall, but the idea spread like a virus, and since then, there hasn't been a single Kankinnen governor of the planet."

He paused for a second to let that sink in.

"At its worst, my people were using their people effectively as slave labour in the various industries on the planet, and we even had segregated PDF units. Guard units that were sent offworld that ended up being mixed race, they weren't allowed back on our soil for fear of subversion. The Administratum and Ecclesiarchy didn't care as long as the Emperor was worshipped and the Tithe was met. That last governor was the straw that broke the camels back for the Kankinnen. Five centuries of repressed injustice unleashed like the wrath of the Emperor himself."

Leaden silence had descended upon the squad.

"This has to be the end of it," said Gage, ending the silence, "if we hold this against the Kankinnen, of whom the most sincere are probably already ashamed, and the rest devastated at the destruction levied upon them by the might of the Imperium, this is just going to happen again. We have to let this be the end."

The other two nodded at his words. Inwardly, Deanta was pleased; it wasn't expected that Guard grunts could articulate so well, and the three natives bucked that trend considerably. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard the phrase 'levied upon' outside of Holy texts. Another silence had descended upon the group, though not an awkward one.

The silence was broken as Sergeant Mummura entered the room the squad was stationed in.

"Lord General's going to vox the whole fleet in a few seconds guys, the campaign for Massana III is officially over."

A wave of relief descended upon the squad, and pleased expressions appeared on everyone's face. The Sergeant walked out of the room, and Deanta couldn't help but notice, on a back holster, his custom-sized holy bolter, that had been presented to him by the Brother-Captain of the Elder Servants Chapter, 5th Company in front of the whole platoon and Colonel Kelios. Whether he realised it or not, Deanta knew Mummura had become a hero for the entire regiment.

1750 Surface Time, Strike Cruiser _Emperor's Restoration_

In the vastness of the arcane vessel, it was in the second Battle Practice period of the day. The Simulacra hall had been set up to resemble an assault by Tyranid organisms, still the most deadly foes of those that the Chapter expected to meet. Hundreds upon hundreds of moving targets were being pushed at great speed towards the defending Marines, all told about a Company's worth of men. Right at the forefront with his squad was Brother-Sergeant Samel, unleashing blank rounds against the targets in front of him, not flinching for an instant. The rest of the Company had quickly noticed the two garments he now wore with pride upon the right arm of his power armour, with the livery of the 54th Zornossos Infantry Regiment visible upon each.


End file.
